Anomaly: Kairi's Past
by Shori to Tsumi
Summary: Prequel to Anomaly. I highly suggest reading this before Anomaly because it will explain things you might not understand if you read Anomaly first. This is about my OC and her past. Read, review, favorite, and follow! Rated T just in case. I'll update almost every day.
1. Chapter 1

I don't remember my parents. I was abandoned at an orphanage, though I don't remember where or at the very least, the name of it. At age two, I was adopted by a couple. From what I could remember of the man, he had black hair, deep brown eyes, and light skin. The woman had brown hair, kind brown eyes, and light skin. By the time I was three years old, I had begun to speak and read. I remember that before I went to sleep each night, I climbed into bed with them and read them a story. I loved doing that because they would always compliment me and kiss me when I finished.

When I was four, I had begun to solve basic math problems. The man was the one who noticed this. He decided to celebrate this by buying an ice cream cake with candy numbers on the perimeter. I was practicing my math as I sat on the woman's lap. Even to this day, I remember how numbers intrigued me.

I remember that when the man came in through the door, hair plastered to his forehead, broad shoulders dripping with rain water, that I had jumped off of the woman's lap and ran to grab a towel for the man. When I had come back, the man had taken his coat and shoes off, and was sitting next the woman. They were holding hands. I remember thinking that life would always be this perfect. The couple would love each other, like prince charming and Cinderella, and I would have the honor of being a part of that love.

The next year, the man took me to go fishing on a boat. He taught me how to hold the fishing rod, and how to wheel in the fish, among other things. He also told me to be extra quiet so that I wouldn't scare the fish away. At the end of the day, I had caught one flounder and he had caught two. I counted it myself. When we came home, the woman congratulated us, gave me a kiss on the head, and cooked our fish. I had read an extra story to them that night.

When I was five, I began to notice a huge difference between the couple and me. My hair was black, but not like the man's hair. My hair was oil black, the darkest black hair I had ever seen. My eyes were a pale green framed by thick, dark lashes that clashed greatly with my ghost-pale skin. When I had noticed this, I began to cry. The man kneeled down next to me and asked me what was wrong. I told him that I looked weird and more than that, I looked nothing like him and the woman. When I finished, he smiled and picked me up. He told me I was beautiful and "unique". When I asked what unique meant, he said it meant I was very special. I smiled then. He had made me happy. I was special.

In the middle of that year, the woman and I were reading a fairy tale when we got a call. I said that maybe the man was calling and maybe that'll explain why he isn't home yet. The woman agreed and got up to answer the phone. I sat in the woman's place reading my book when my mom came into the room holding the phone. Her face was flushed and there tears coming from her eyes. Wordlessly, I stared, not knowing how to react. Everything was perfect in the world. She never cried.

She was my mom, wasn't she?

"Kairi…he's dead."

I tilted my head, not quite understanding. I had read about the concept of death in books, but I never thought it would actually happen to the couple or me.

I asked her to repeat. She shook her head and sobbed. Fear stabbed at my heart. I had no idea what was happening. Why was she crying?

"Kairi…he's dead. He's not coming home."

"Will he be home tomorrow?"

"No…Kairi…he's not coming home ever again. He's gone." Another sob shook her.

I drop my book. I stood there as my mother cried.

The funeral took place on a Friday the 13th in January. It rained the entire time, and not once had I shed a tear. My mother's words kept repeating in my head. I had not uttered a word since that day.

But, I took one look at my mother at the funeral.

_She's broken…I'll put her back together._

I slept in the couple's bed for the next two years. I took my father's place and kept my mom as happy as you could keep a mourning widow.

One day, when I seven years old and staring at a picture of the couple and me, my mother came home late. I had set the picture down on the table and ran to greet my mom at the door. But I stopped in my tracks when I saw the man next to her, holding hands.

"We're getting married, Kairi. Isn't that great? Now you can have a father again." A smile graced her lips when she finished and tears of joys sprung to her eyes. As she wiped them away, I glared at the man.

"What's your name and how long have you been seeing my mother?" I emphasize the word "mother". He smiles down at me, and attempts to pat my head. I smack his hand away.

Anger coursed through me, and his slightly shocked expression made the anger so much more dangerous. I yelled out at him, screaming profanities and kicking and punching. My mother tried to grab me away from the stranger. But, _he could not ever replace him._

But he did. And I stood in a beautiful dress, a tiara of flowers gracing my head, holding a basket of lush red rose petals. With my head bent down in defeat and grief, I silently cried the tears I should have cried the day of the funeral.


	2. Chapter 2

The strange man moved in with us. He took my place beside my mom and wisely chose to ignore me. I had noticed that and approved of the fact he was ignoring me. I pushed away any suspicious feelings about it. He had every right to. But, ever since he moved in, I was the uninvited guest. Not him.

Soon enough, my mother also pushed me away. This began a few months after their marriage and they were beginning to come down from their high. As much as they ignored me, I ignored them. I became distant from my mother and eventually stopped caring about her. But, I still harbored a deep hatred for the stranger named George Robinson. I made up stories in my head that would shed a bad light on him. And at the end of each story, he had a painful death.

With each passing year, I became grimmer. I stopped smiling and laughing. At school, I gave everyone a stare that I was sure freaked them out. And I rarely talked. In fifth grade, I was sent to the social worker who talked to me about abuse and that I could always talk to her if there was a problem. I gave her a stony glare.

The next year, we moved to the Village in Manhattan. It was probably the best and the worst thing that had ever happened to me. We moved into a pretty apartment, and even though my mom didn't like it at first, she eventually warmed up to it.

I went to a large school that combined middle school with high school. My first day was strange, and a little bit painful. I got into a fight. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be my last.

One day, when I came home from school, all the pictures of my father were gone. Every single item in the house that might've hinted at his existence was gone. I checked everywhere. When I had asked my mom, she said she put it into storage and when I had asked her why she put it into storage, she said that George thought any guests might think strange that there were more pictures of her dead husband than her newer, living husband.

I scowled at her, muttered a few curses, and contemplated going over to George's workplace and kick in him the balls in front of his co-workers. I didn't. I was going to be smart about my revenge.

This man would not take advantage of me any longer.

When George came home that night, I did not eat dinner with him. When he walked by my room to get to his and my mother's room, I stood in my doorway, watching him as passed. I swore I would get my revenge.

The next week, I took an IQ test along with a Myers-Briggs test for school. When I came home from school that day, my mom and George stood over the mail, gaping at a piece of paper.

"Come here." They said.

I refused and demanded they tell me what was going on.

"Take a look at your scores."

I took the paper from my mom's hand and read it. When I finished, I set it down on the table and walked away. As I did, George said, "Kairi, do you know what this means?"

"Yes."

"Kairi, you're a genius."

I thought about this for a second.

"Fuck you, George. I said I knew."

Before they could say anything else, I was in my room, slamming the door shut.

The next day I took the papers off the table, stuffed them in my bag, and went to school. On my way there, I noticed a group of people crowded around something. Curiously, I walk through the crowd to see a two men playing a chess game. I recognized the younger man as a student in the high school attached to my middle school. He had an intense look of concentration on his face as he thought about his next move. I had never played chess before, nor had I any idea what the rules were. Maybe, if my father was alive, we would be playing chess together.

At lunch, I saw him again. He was in an alleyway near the school, surrounded by a group of other students. I nudged the girl next to me. "Hey, who's that guy? The one surrounded by those guys."

She looked at me, shocked, but I ignored her. She said, "Oh, um, I don't remember his name, but I've heard he always gets into fights. I've even heard that he does drugs or something."

Finding this slightly strange, I asked, "Does he play chess?"

She gave me a strange look. "Uh, probably not. Chess is for nerds. He's a druggie, not a nerd."

On my way home, I saw him setting up a chess game. He was the only one there.

"How do you play?" I asked.

He looked up at me. "How old are you? Kids shouldn't play with strangers."

"That's something strange for a druggie to say. I appreciate it, but I'm in middle school, contrary to my appearance. "

He smirked. "Fair enough. Sit down. I'll teach you how to play."

"Teach me how to win."

And so he taught me the names and roles of the chess pieces and how to best use them. He taught me strategies and that chess was a game of war.

"If it's a game of war, I don't see why people think it's so lame."

He agreed. "Do you want to play a game? It's getting dark, and your parents will probably get worried if you don't come home."

I looked at him strangely. "You act nothing like your reputation. People think you do drugs and various different crimes. And you're worried about my parents worrying about me?"

He moved one of his pawns. "It's just a rumor," he looked me in the eye. "Don't tell."

Confused, I asked, "Why would you want people to think that about you? What are you going to gain from it?"

"Some parts of the rumors are true. And people want a reason to why I live the way I do. So, I let them believe what they want, and I live the way I do."

"So, you don't do drugs?"

"They think I do. Someone caught me taking Ibuprofen for a headache and assumed I was taking drugs."

I nodded and moved a bishop.

"Look," he said, pointing towards my queen. I look at where he's pointing.

"Fuck."

He grinned. That's why people don't talk during a chess game. They get distracted. Also, don't let them get your queen. It's the most important piece."

I looked at the sky. It was dark. Night in the Village was the best, but I was never allowed to go outside. But, why should I listen to mom and George?

"Hey, I never caught your name," he said.

"Kairi. Kairi Romanique."

"That's a strange name."

"Well, what's yours?"

He stared at me. "You mean…you knew about the rumors about me, but you didn't know my name?"

"Ace Vormov."

"I think your name is also very strange."

He nodded with a grin. "I've no idea what my parents were thinking when they named me."

"My father's dead," I said.

"And your mother?" He asks.

"Still alive."

"Well, at least you have her. Did she ever remarry?"

I clench my fist. "Yes. To a George Robinson. I met him the day my mom announced they were getting married. I never had a say in it. He took my father's place, that fucker."

I didn't know why I was telling him this. I hadn't ever told anyone what I felt about George.

"How long has he been married to your mother?" He asked.

"Five years."

"And you still haven't warmed up to George Robinson after all those years?"

I growled, "I took care of my mother, a mourning widow, for two whole years. I cooked her food, I paid her bills, and I kept her as happy as possible. Then, this…_stranger_ comes into my life. My mom hadn't told me a word about him. She hadn't even hinted that she was dating someone. And I did all her work for her! And I was _seven years old_! She ignores me now. She rarely talks to me. She doesn't congratulate me when I achieve something, or kiss me before bed! I don't even remember the last time I hugged her. I never saw it before, but now I know that she's a selfish, uncaring woman."

After my outburst, I felt lightheaded. My face was flushed, and I felt like crying. "I don't know why she does the things she does. I don't understand it. I've tried time and time again to understand her, but I just can't…"

He reached over the chess board and pat my head. "Maybe she can't help but link you to your father's death. It probably doesn't mean she hates you, but she sees him in you."

"Ace."

"What?"

"I was adopted."

A pause.

"Oh."

Every day after school we would meet and play chess. One day as we were playing chess, he said, "You've gotten pretty damn good at chess. Do you want to play poker next time?"

"I don't know how to play that either."

And so, for the next month we played poker.

At the end of that one month, I came home from a poker game to see my mom and George standing in the doorway, with disapproving looks on their faces.

"Are you going to move or should I push through?"

George said, "You're going to tell us where you've been for the last two months and why. We've been worried about you."

I grit my teeth. "I don't take orders from you, old man. I don't have to tell you anything." I knew I was being unreasonably stubborn, but I_ wanted_ to make this man's life hell.

"Kairi!" My mother exclaimed.

"What?" I asked irritably.

"You're grounded for the next two weeks. You will come _straight_ home, right after school ends," George says.

"Did you not here me?" I say. "I. Don't. Take. Orders. From. You."

Satisfied and smirking slightly, I shove past George, stopping myself from hurting him. _That would be too cruel. This was just a warning. Life is about to become hell for you, George. _

_ The dead will bury the dead._


	3. Chapter 3

It was the middle of January when I had learned to play almost all of the games Ace knew and at the same time, beat him at it. The ground was covered in a light blanket of snow and there was going to be a nor'easter next week, on my birthday.

I was walking to our usual place in the park (I walk through the park to get to school) and sit down at one of the chess tables. Children ran around and played in the snow while parents conversed happily. I remember feeling envious of those children. I used to be like them, but the people they loved the most were the same type of people that ruined my life. Muttering curses under my breath, I glance at my phone. I was cold, and Ace was late.

A few minutes later, I saw why.

Ace was practically dragging a man in a floral Hawaiian shirt and shorts by the arm with a huge grin on his face. The man was old, had a beer belly, and had similar hair to Einstein's. I wait until they get to the table to ask who the hell the man was.

"My uncle. He taught me everything I know. And I live with him."

I extend my hand towards the man. With a large smile on his face, the old man shakes my hand and introduces himself as a John Westerfield.

I glanced at Ace. _Does everyone in his family have a strange surname?_

"This man here," he claps his uncle on the shoulder, "Taught me everything I know. He's the Greenwich Village game Einstein."

I nodded. This man deserved my respect. Unlike George.

"My uncle also has information on almost everybody in the Village. If you want to know if your fiancé is cheating, you go to Einstein."

"Do you have information on a George Robinson? He's married to a Valerie Robinson."

Einstein thought for a moment. "George…a George Robinson…ah yes!"

His exclamation shocked me, but then I was excited. A triumphant feeling bubbled up inside me.

He looked at my face, then continued, "I can tell just by looking at you that you want dirt on this man. I am sorry to inform you that I have none. All I know is that he lives with his wife and step-daughter whom he doesn't know very well."

He looks me in the eye. "You're a very beautiful girl, Miss Kairi, but under that beauty lies a blackened heart. You cannot trick me with your kind words. They don't call me the Game Einstein for no reason."

I was slightly shocked at his change in personality, but then I found that it wasn't shock that I was feeling, it was intrigue. We didn't play any games today; we talked strategy instead. I realized that I really liked Einstein. He was a wise old man in a fun package.

It started snowing as the sun began to set. The sunset cast a beautiful array of orange, yellow, and pink against the clouds. Soon, they left, but I stayed seated a while longer.

The sun finally set.

I was in a good mood and I dreaded the thought of going home, so I didn't. Standing up, I pat down my long black mantle coat and decided to walk around the Village.

I was humming to myself when I saw George.

All of a sudden, my happiness evaporated, leaving a cold anger in its wake. _Einstein was right. I do have a blackened heart. But I have every right to have one._

I stood still, and when George turned his head, he saw me. I made a mistake when I stopped walking; I should've ran. He was here to take me back and I didn't want to go back.

But, he was already here, and I couldn't run.

"Hey, where've you been kiddo? Mom and I were starting to get worried," he said with what to other people may have looked like a fatherly smile. He pat me on the head.

I recoiled under his touch. He took his hand back and kneeled down to my height as if I was a little girl. I scowled.

"Why do you hate me, Kairi?"

I glared down at him.

"Please answer me, Kairi."

I kept my mouth shut.

"Is it because of your father? I know he's dead and I know you miss him. Both my parents are dead. My father died from cancer at the age of seventy three and my mother died from old age at seventy eight. You see, we've been through the same thing. I want you to know you can always talk to me."

This caught me off guard for a second.

"You're my third father. And I hate you for many, many reasons. Nothing will change that. You've done so many things that you may or may not be aware of. And I will hold it against you no matter what. So, let me be. Let me live my fucking life, and you will live yours with my foster mother."

All of a sudden, he shot up. "_Third _father? _Foster _mother? You're not Valerie's biological daughter?"

He covered his face with his hands, then dropped them.

"Can you please explain this to me? I'm not sure I understand what you mean by what you said."

"My father, the one who died, was my foster father. And, my mom, my foster mom, can't have children. It's why they adopted me."

His face changed, he looked as if something made sense now. "That's why…"

"Why what?"

He looked at me as if he just remembered I was there.

"Nothing, dear."

"Don't call me that."

I turn around to continue my walk, but he grabbed my arm.

"Where do you think you're going? Home is the other way."

_My home is not your home. _

"I'm going to a shop I've had my eye on," I lie.

"Well I'm coming then," he says.

"No," I say. "You're not."

I run to Einstein's shop.


	4. Chapter 4

I wasn't exactly sure what I was expecting Einstein's shop to look like, but it probably wasn't this: a crooked neon sign read The Game Shack, the large window beside the door was a dirty window and behind it was all types of games stacked high up allowing people to look in only from the very top. Christmas lights were wrapped around the building.

After knocking, I opened the door and a bell chimed. Einstein looked up from where he was standing behind a desk. The shop was cluttered with stacks upon stacks of games and there were more Christmas lights in the shop.

I stood in the doorway, nervously. I was never invited and wasn't sure how he'd react. But to my surprise, he grinned.

"Well, well, look who it is. What brings you here so soon?"

"George."

He raised an eyebrow. "The same George Robinson you asked information on earlier?"

I nodded.

"Now, why are you running away from him?"

I shook my head. "I hate him. I just can't shake the feeling something is off with him. I don't feel safe around him."

His expression turned serious. "That's serious, Miss Kairi. Have you told your mother or at the very least a friend?"

I shook my head again. "Ace is my only friend, and he knows, though I never told him that I didn't feel safe around George. But he probably figured that out a long time ago. My mother doesn't pay much attention to me anymore."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

I thought about it for a moment, then nodded hesitantly.

All of a sudden, Ace appeared from behind a stack of games holding a steaming mug and a bag of cookies.

Confused, he glanced between me and Einstein.

"George," I said.

He nodded then grinned.

"I have something I want to show you."

"Careful there, Ace. I know how to use a knife."

"Just come."

I glanced at Einstein, but he waved his hand with a smile.

I waved to Einstein before disappearing behind the door hidden behind the stack of games. There was a hallway that led to a stairwell and an elevator.

"The elevator isn't exactly safe. It's safer to go up the stairs." He turns to look at me. "I'll make some hot chocolate or something, if you want."

He pushed open a door that led to a hallway. I heard something jingling as it got closer. Rounding a corner, a German shepherd collided into Ace. Ace held the dog's paws in his hands as it stood on its hind legs. The dog's tongue was lolling out and its tail was wagging at high speed. All of a sudden, the dog turned to me, and jumped.

I was pinned underneath the dog and it licked my face. I could feel its tail wagging. Ace whistled and the dog let go of me and sat down obediently in front of Ace. It was still wagging its tail.

"Good boy."

I smiled. Honestly, I didn't mind the fact that a huge dog had just pinned me down probably could've killed me, had it not been trained. I happened to love dogs, among other animals.

Ace saw me smiling. "His name is Terminator. We call him Term for short."

My smile widened into a grin. _I don't remember the last time I smiled like this._ I shook the thought away and said, "Can I pet him?"

"Sure. He won't hurt you. He's the type of guy you call just to drink a beer with."

I put my hand on Terminator's head. Then, a thought occurred to me. "You drink beer? With the dog?"

He nods. "Only on special occasions like Einstein's birthday."

I tilt my head. "What about your birthday?"

"Then too, but I go all out and won't share with Term. I get territorial when I'm drunk," he jokes.

I scratch Term behind his ears. "I like him."

"I don't understand people who are afraid of dogs. He's trained, shows affection, and you can talk to him and he won't ever contradict you. He's always on your side no matter what. German shepherd are the best dogs out there, isn't that right, Terminator?"

Ace scratched Term's belly. "Now that you've met the Terminator, we can move on to what I wanted to show you."

We got up and walked down the rest of the hallway. The hallway led to a dimly lit living room. An archway to the left led to a kitchen and another archway at the far end of the room led to another hallway with two doors. Ace walked past the first door and opened the second. I paused and stood in the doorway as he walked in. The room was modest, with a bed in the far right corner and a wide window hidden behind shabby green curtains. Stacks of books and games were clustered on the left wall. Ace walked up to the window and pulled back the curtains, revealing a fire escape and a view of the streets below. Then, he walked to the stacks of books games and picked up a bunch of strange-looking books. He set them down on the floor.

"This is Bleach. I've been reading it for years, and I thought that maybe you'd like it."

I picked up one of the books. I'd never read any type of comic book before.

"It's a manga. There's also an anime, but I don't like it as much as the manga."

"How different is the anime from the manga," I asked as I flipped through the pages.

This became another thing we bonded over.

He had walked me home that night saying that he was worried something would happen to me if I walked alone.

We met every day, played a game, read Bleach, and talk. I became infatuated with the plot and characters of Bleach, and he was more than pleased to talk about it with me.

A year passed and I was in seventh grade. George was planning for his sister's family to come over for Thanksgiving. His sister had three children, two of them boys, and one of them a girl. I said his sister and daughter must look like cows if they were related to George. I noticed a flicker of irritation pass over his face when I said this.

I had found a weak point.

But he had found one too.

My room was modest. It had a bed with plain sheets, a plan pillow, and a plain blanket. My walls were also plain. There was a window with baby blue curtains that gave the room a calm, rather than boring, air. But it was still plain. I didn't have any toys, makeup, or anything a girl my age might have in their room. Everything was in place, and it was impossible to lose something in my room.

But I did.

It was late October and Ace had just lent me another manga. I searched every nook and cranny in my room, but I couldn't find it. But then, I noticed some things were out of place.

I'd never told anyone, not even Ace or Einstein, but I wrote in a diary. I felt that if I didn't, I would forget things. I didn't call it a diary, though.

I wrote everything in there. The first pages were neatly filled with memories of the man my mother seldom talked about. I realized that I had forget his name. _Maybe I never knew it to begin with. _I shook the thought away.

I had to focus on finding the old notebook.

I searched my room for another half hour until I gave up. Walking out of my room, down the hall, and into the kitchen, I saw George in the living room, reading out of a familiar old notebook. Reaching for my phone, I kept my eyes on George.

I took a picture of him reading my notebook. Standing on the tips of my toes, I tried to bend forward to get a better shot of him.

He closed the notebook, and I took another photo, then quickly but quietly ran back into the hallway and into my room.

I slid down the wall and clutched my head. _I need to get that notebook back. Why does he have it? Did he search my room? Pedophile. Maybe mom showed him it? But, I never told her about it. Sure, she probably saw me writing in it once in a while, but she'd never said anything about it. _

There was a knock on my door and I stiffened. It was George.

I quickly masked my features and opened the door. "You're mother texted me that you need to buy a dress for Thanksgiving." He smiles. "You're going to meet my sister's family; your cousins. You probably remember them from the wedding."

I nodded, but I hadn't remembered them. In fact, I don't think I even saw them.

I spoke, "I'm not going shopping with you. I'll go it myself. I have enough money."

He shook his head. "Not this time, kiddo. We should spend some time together, get to know each other better. It'll be fun."

I refused.

"You don't have a choice. Be ready in five."

I grit my teeth and glared at his back as he left.

But then I smiled.

_Since you're so hopeful about Thanksgiving, I'll make sure that this Thanksgiving will be one you don't ever forget. _

By the time the five minutes had ended, I had formulated a plan for Thanksgiving.

I had read in a book that embarrassment was equivalent to death. Not only would I embarrass him, but my "cousins" as well.

It was time to put my plan into action.

In the car, he asked me about school.

I said it was fine, that I was doing well in all my classes.

The next question he asked me really pissed me off. Maybe it was the way he said it, but it was also a dead giveaway that he'd read my notebook.

"How're your friends. Why don't you invite them over?"

I had no friends aside from Ace and Einstein. Ace was popular for being a druggie and I was just in the background. If George found out that I hung out with Ace, he would tell my mom and try to ground me again. Maybe worse.

But I wasn't scared.

"They're fine."

"How many friends do you have?"

"Guess."

"I asked you first." He was beginning to think that he had finally won me over. I would keep up the façade until the day of Thanksgiving.

"Not many," I say. "I'm friendly with some girls, but not exactly close enough to consider them friends."

His smile faltered. He probably expected me to say none, but what I said had been completely believable. I assumed he began to doubt whether my notebook was legit or not.

We stopped at a dress store called Emmy's Boutique, got out of the car, and walked inside the store. After approximately an hour (I had picked out only two dresses and I was sitting on a bench contemplating whether or not I should buy the dresses and which dress I should buy), I could see that George had begun to get impatient. I spared him some slack and bought one of dresses. The more expensive one, I mean.

The dress had short black mesh sleeves and a loose maroon bodice that reached mid-thigh. In all honestly, I happened to really like the dress.

But, the fun was about to begin.

I had managed to glean some information about my step cousins from George. They sounded like stuck-up rich brats.

This made me happy.

Later that day, I met Ace at the park for a game of chess.

He saw my face and asked if there was something wrong.

I shook my head, but told him of my plan to mortify George on Thanksgiving.

"Be careful," he said.

We were in the middle of a game of chess when a small group of men came over to us.

"You playin' a girl, Ace?"

He nods, paying more attention to the game than to the men.

The man who spoke leaned over the board, casting a shadow over it so that it was hard to see.

"Move," I said.

I had the same look of concentration on my face.

Carefully, I scanned the board and moved my queen.

The men surrounded us now, and more people began to gather.

Ace moved his remaining bishop.

"The girl's good," someone in the group said, and murmurs of assent followed.

_I can get his queen. _

Five minutes later, I did.

Ace stared at the board, shocked, but quickly recovered.

We kept playing, and only the sound of the audience's breathing and occasional mutters of surprise were the only things I could hear.

I heard some people suck in a breath as I lifted my queen and knocked Ace's king down.


	5. Chapter 5

E

**Hi. If anyone's wondering why this has no Bleach characters, this fanfic is mainly about the life of my OC before she met the Bleach characters. I highly recommend reading this fanfic if you've read my other fanfic, Anomaly. It will help clear up a lot of things that you may not understand in Anomaly. Please review. I really want to know what you guys think about my OC, and the story in general. By the way, Einstein and Ace will most likely make an appearance in Anomaly, and maybe Mirabelle, Kevin, and Michael will too. **

I sat down on my bed staring at my notebook. It had been returned to its place sometime in the night. I'd checked my room as soon as I woke up, when I came home from school, before bed, and any other possible time George might've had access to my room.

Setting the notebook down on my bed, I glanced at my phone.

It was Thanksgiving.

My mom and George were too busy frantically preparing the house for our guests to pay any attention to me as I walked out the front door. I had recently developed a habit for leaving out my window which led to the fire escape, and they were more than aware of it.

I had time to spare before my step cousins came and I chose to use that time to review my plan. Unfortunately, I had decided not to do what I had originally planned because it might have been a_ bit_ too cruel. So, I settled for reviewing what I had learned about them.

They lived in the Hamptons and were pretty rich. The boy's names were Kevin and Michael, and the girl's name was Mirabelle. Their father was some political figure, but I didn't know what their mother-George's sister- did for a living. I'd heard George say that my step cousins went to some elite boarding school in England, so they might have a slight accent.

I heard a dog barking and turned around to see Ace struggling to keep his grip on Terminator's leash. Term kept barking, wagging his tail frantically, and pulled Ace in my direction.

I lifted my hand to wave to Ace and braced myself for Term's own happy-go-lucky greeting.

When he came he said, "Hey. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Same to you. And Term," I replied as I scratched Terminator behind his ears. "How's Einstein?" I asked.

"He's good. I think he's a bit obsessed with the whole turkey thing."

The corners of my mouth tugged upward in a smile. "My rich step cousins are coming over. I'm not going to hurt them like I originally planned to, unless they deserve it, of course."

"I'm glad you decided to spare them."

I frown. "I'm still not happy about meeting them. George is like the plague. No matter how hard you try to get rid of it, or keep it in a controlled environment, it always pops up somewhere else."

"It's amazing how easily you compare the people you loath to a disease that killed thousands, if not more," he joked.

"Where are you taking Term?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Just around. I figured he'd be happy if I took him for a walk, so I did."

I glanced at the time on my phone. "Shit, I've got to make a fake impression. I need to go. See you," I said.

He nodded and continued walking Terminator.

All of a sudden, I remember something. My back stiffened in panic. I'd left my notebook on my bed. What if George took it again? I needed to write in it soon, before I forgot a detail or two.

I ran all the way back to my house, and into my room. My notebook was just as I had left it. I hadn't checked to see if anything was missing from my notebook yet, but I couldn't do that right now. I had to get ready. Quickly, I took a shower and got dressed in the expensive dress George had bought me. I pulled on black over-the-knee socks and slipped on a pair of black flats with a bows.

There was one thing left to do. My hair. I stared at my reflection, scowling. My hair was messy and strands of it hung down in my face. Grabbing a brush I seldom use, I brushed my hair and braided into a fishtail.

Some strands of hair still hung around my face, but I didn't pin them back. I thought it looked…cute.

Cringing, I straightened invisible creases in my dress and once I was satisfied with my appearance, I grudgingly made my way down to the kitchen to help with final preparations.

At twelve o' clock, a knock came from the door. Excitement bubbled in the pit of my stomach. I take that back. I was nervous, not excited. Maybe I had tried too hard with my appearance. Maybe when George had taken my notebook, he had planned my demise before he returned it.

I shook my head of those thoughts and leaned against a wall.

George opened the door and they came in.

A man around 6'0 walked in, followed by his wife who had only a _slight_ resemblance to George. Three kids (my age) came in. One of the boys were tall and significantly skinnier than the other. He had dirty blond hair. The other boy was shorter, and plumper. He had dull brown hair and was crossing his arms as if he was holier-than-thou.

I decided I would keep a close eye on him.

The girl, Mirabelle, was of average height, but she was wearing stiletto heels, a short light pink skirt, and a tucked in white shirt with ruffles on the chest. She wore a gold necklace with her name on it and held a pink clutch bag. Her hair was a curly yellow-blonde that reached down to her chin. She had light blue eyes.

I then noticed the suitcases.

George had forgotten one major detail.

There were going to be staying here for longer than a day.

All of a sudden, my mom turned around and called for me.

Mirabelle, Kevin, and Michael all turned to look at me. I realized I had chosen a bad spot because from where they were standing, they wouldn't be able to see my face; the sun cast a shadow over me.

I walked away from my place beside the wall, and came to stand next to my mother. I did not smile, I did not frown. Feigning patience, I waited for them to react first, but after a moment I realized I was supposed to introduce myself. So, I forced myself to smile sweetly and introduced myself. "Hi, I'm Kairi. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

I then extended my hand, but I could see a flash of hesitation on their faces. Reluctantly, Mirabelle carefully took my hand and shook it.

Starting to get pissed off, I dropped my hand to my side. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Michael staring at my legs. I resisted the urge to ask him if he liked what he saw and a smile tugged at my lips. I wasn't shy, but I'd punch the bloody brain out of him if he took it a step too far.

After a few more minutes of greetings and brief catching ups, we moved to the living room to talk.

I said, "Hey George, they're sleeping over with us, right? Where'll they sleep?" I tilted my head cockily and stared him in the eye. Pretending not to notice, he said, "Mirabelle will be sleeping in your room with you. The boys will sleep in the one of the guest rooms, and my sister and her husband will sleep at a hotel."

Glowering, I sat down in an armchair next to Mirabelle. I noticed she looked vaguely uncomfortable.

"Hey, do you want to put your stuff down? No one's going to take it," I say, in a disinterested tone.

"No, I'm fine," she replied, lifting her chin up slightly. I scowled and noticed that she did have a slight English accent.

"Kairi, dear. Why don't you take your cousins to the park? Maybe introduce them to your friends if they're there," Mom said.

She gave a look that said not to argue, and even though I could've easily disobeyed her, I didn't. So, Mirabelle, Kevin, Michael, and I went to the park.

"Here it is," I say.

Mirabelle turns to me with a bitchy glint in her eye. I could tell things were about to go south.

"You're mom said something about meeting your friends. Lots of people are out today. Why don't you go find them so we can talk to them?" She smiled.

"The boys can go run around a bit. God knows Michael needs it."

Resisting the urge to scowl, I said, "They're probably busy celebrating with their families. Let's not bother them."

I know I had lied straight through my teeth, but I didn't want to admit I had no friends my age. Ace was my only friend, but he was a guy.

"You're lying," she said with a smirk.

Kevin and Michael "oohed."

I narrowed my eyes at her.

"How smart are you, Mirabelle?"

She raised a perfect eyebrow at me. "The best in the grade."

I smirked back at her, but quickly forced my face into a passive expression.

"Don't try to change the subject, Kairi," she smiled even brighter than before. "When we came here, I saw a school barbeque and I'm sure it's still going on. I'm sure your friends are there."

"What do you want from me, Mirabelle?"

Kevin and Michael were watching us intently, as if we were two characters in a suspense film.

"Just to meet your friends."

"I already told you. They're probably busy."

She shrugs. "Fine. If you say so."

Not too long later, we headed back home for Thanksgiving dinner. I let them walk ahead of me and I glared at Mirabelle's back.

_She has no idea what she's messing with._

It was dark out now, and the guests were unpacking their things. I sat in the armchair reading a book when I remembered.

Mirabelle was in my room. My notebook was on my bed.

_You're on a roll today, Kairi._

I ran through the hallway and slammed open my door to see Mirabelle sitting on my bed flipping through the pages of my notebook.

Her head jerked up when she saw me and to my surprise, she smirked.

"Genius, huh?"

"Put it down, Mirabelle. How much did you read?"

She shrugged and handed me the notebook.

She wasn't far in at all, but I couldn't be sure if she flipped around in it. It was bad enough George had read it, but now her?

I grit my teeth. I knew I was slacking lately, but it was all in preparation for today. But now, I'd have to control myself for however long they're staying.

"How long are you staying here?" I asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Uncle George didn't tell you? We'll be here for the next two weeks. Mother and Father are leaving for Venice, Italy sometime in the next few days, and they might extend their stay if they like it there."

_Fuck._

I smiled. "Okay." I looked at the time on my phone. "It's seven. I'm going out," I said. I hadn't bothered changing out of my dress; I was too desperate to get out of the house and play a game of chess.

"I'm coming," Mirabelle said.

I hesitated. "You'll be bored."

"How do you know that?" she replied.

"I just do."

But she came with me anyway, to my displeasure.

She hadn't changed out of her clothes either, and I suspected she wore such expensive clothes on a daily basis.

"Where are we going?" She asked when we were outside.

"The park," I replied simply.

When we got there, Ace was playing against the man who had been the first to talk when we were in the middle of a game.

I smirked and walked to the crowd, but Mirabelle grabbed my arm.

"What?"

She pointed to the group of men surrounding Ace and the man.

"Why are we going there? You said we were going for a walk."

I shrugged. "I didn't lie. We did go for a walk. Up till here. Now I want to play chess. So I will."

She furrowed her eyebrows and looked at me as if she was surprised I wasn't understanding something. "With poor strangers?"

I narrowed my eyes at her.

"The majority of men here are polite, intelligent, working-class men who have a passion for chess. Why shouldn't I play against them? Chess is a fascinating game."

She sighed exasperatedly. "Don't you get it? They're poor old men who need money. People like us, who are_ not_ poor, don't play around with poor people."

"Let's get something straight," I said. "These men are not hobos, so stop treating them like they are. Okay? And, these men, as I said before, are polite and intelligent. You're freakin' rich, and I may be too, but that doesn't have to do with anything. Why can't a play a friggin' game of chess?"

"Chess is for geeks and nerds! It's _weird._"

Resisting the urge to punch her, I said, "Using stereotypes is a sign of lower intelligence and lack of creativity. It's also _insulting._ If you say another bad thing about them or the game, I'll drag you back home, and come back to play a game myself."

She scowled at me. "Did you just call me _stupid_?"

Sick of her, and gaining the upper hand, I smirked. "Prove that you're not, and I'll take it back."

I turned away from her and walked through the crowd the watch the rest of the game.

Ace had just knocked the man's king down.

Cheers sounded throughout the crowd, and Ace's opponent congratulated him.

Ace spot me from the crowd. "Want to go next, Kairi?" he called out.

"Sure."

Mirabelle tugged at my sleeve and hissed, "No you're not. You are _not _going to leave me in this crowd alone!"

I shrugged her off, telling her to stay in the front of the crowd.

Ace got up and I took his seat. I would be playing black this time, just as I preferred.

The man said, "And to whom do I owe the pleasure of playing against?"

I extended my hand with a smile. "Kairi Romanique. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

He shook my hand. "Alexander Woodrow. I've heard many rumors about you, Missy." He shook his finger jokingly. "Ruthless and meticulous, they say. And now I have the honor of playing against you."

The crowd had quieted down a while ago, and I could see Mirabelle staring at me slack-jawed when he finished talking."

"The honor's all mine, sir."

We had playing for over an hour, and I was almost at checkmate. But, Mr. Woodrow was too. He was a good opponent, a very skilled one. I found out he had been playing since he was seven years old. He was rarely beaten, and no one but Ace had beaten him in years.

He was the best chess player in the Village.

After fifteen to twenty minutes, I said, "Checkmate," and knocked down his king.

Once again, the crowd erupted in cheers. I shook Mr. Woodrow's hand and bid him farewell, then left the park with a silent Mirabelle.

I opened the door to see Michael and Kevin waiting.

"Mirabelle?"

She stayed silent.

"Mirabelle, are you okay?" He and Michael glared at me.

"Where's mom and George?" I asked.

"They went with Mother and Father to see a movie. Where were you guys? And what the _hell _did you do to Mira?"

I glanced at Mirabelle. "She's fine, just a bit shocked. You guys catch up, I'm going to rest."

She walked over to them and started talking, and I saw that Michael wasn't listening. The pervert was staring at me again. I ignored him and walked to my room, shutting it behind me. Quickly, I changed out of the fancy dress, leaving on the socks. I changed into a loose navy blue tank top with a black knee-length sweater jacket and shorts. I took out my spare combat boots and put that on too.

Untangling my hair from the fishtail braid, I looked in the mirror. I looked like me again. Satisfied with my appearance, I exited my room through the fire escape window.


	6. Chapter 6

I had taken my notebook with me when I left, and was now sitting in a tree in the park. The distance from my spot in the tree to the ground was approximately 20 feet, which was perfect. Light from the full moon shone down onto my notebook as I read passages upon passages and scanned pictures and drawings. Everything was in this notebook. It was a record of my life.

Once I was done examining my notebook, I flipped the pages to the very beginning. In there, was a detailed description of my dead father. People tended to ask me how I remembered such details at such a young age. I'd shrug and say that I just did. It was a lie. I wrote everything down, _every_ single thing. I was scared that one day I would forget, but since I had this notebook, all my memories were in the palm of my hand.

I began to read the description of my father.

Daniel Romanique had black hair, but my hair was a darker, shinier black than his. He had light skin and the prettiest brown eyes I'd ever seen in my life.

I smiled slightly at what I'd written.

He was kind and polite to everyone, I'd noticed. Even to people who didn't deserve it. He was perceptive and intelligent and rewarded me whenever I'd accomplished something new.

Drops of water dripped slowly onto the page and I quickly shut the notebook. I looked up to see that it was snowing. I hadn't realized before that I was cold, but now I was shivering. Touching a hand to my face, I realized that I had been crying. I hadn't cried in a long time, and I had no desire to do so now.

Stuffing the notebook into the sweater jacket's pocket, I looked at the ground below. Snow had already begun to accumulate, and I wondered just how long it had been snowing. I hadn't brought my phone with me, so I didn't know the time either, but judging from the moon high up in the sky, and lack of people outside, it was pretty late.

But, I didn't want to go home yet. I didn't want to see those stuck-up sissies, or George or my own mom who doesn't give a shit about me anymore.

She'd even stopped asking me what I wanted to eat. She just made food, and because I seldom ate breakfast or dinner, I assumed she began to think that I didn't want to eat her food, and that gave her the right to make dishes that only she and George liked. Even when I was there with them, and it was obvious I wasn't going anywhere soon, she still made the food that she and George liked. Unfortunately, she also made just enough food for George and her, so I barely ate at all.

That probably explained why I was all skin and bones.

Feeling the sudden urge to read Bleach, I walked all the way home, snow drenching my shoes and freezing my feet. I was shivering and the pain in my feet had worsened and spread to my bare thighs, neck, and face.

I wrapped my arms around my body and tried to control the shivering. On normal days, the walk to and from the park wasn't too long. It took five to ten minutes.

I tried to walk as fast as I could up the fire escape stairs, to the top floor, where my room was. Reaching a bare hand to my window, I saw that the tips of my fingers were blue, my knuckles red, cracked, and starting to bleed.

Mirabelle was sitting on a cot in my room, reading a book. Not able to get a good grip on the window, I knocked on the glass, and Mirabelle turned to look at me.

Her jaw dropped and she ran to open the window. She helped me into my room, and once I was inside, she shut the window and ran out to grab some towels and some hot chocolate. My feet were prickling and burning, and I struggled to pull my shoes off, but I knew that if I didn't get my shoes off, my feet would continue to freeze and hurt.

Mirabelle came back with a steaming mug in one hand and towels in the other. She set the mug down and helped me pull off my shoes. She turned around to grab a towel and wrapped them around my legs. She took another towel, and set it around my shoulders. After she handed over the steaming mug of hot chocolate to me, she went over to my bed, picked up my pillow, and put it behind me on the wall so I could lean on it.

Silently, she went back to her cot to get her book, then sat down next to me.

"Try to stay awake," she said without turning away from her book.

I did as she said.

My mom and George knocked, and with permission from Mirabelle, opened the door.

"What _happened_ to you?" Mom said when she saw me.

Mirabelle still hadn't looked up from her book when she said, "She left four hours ago and came home fifteen minutes ago."

Setting her book down, she carefully unwrapped the towel around my legs and pointed at my feet. "She has frostbite, but she'll be fine."

After asking a few more questions all to which Mirabelle calmly answered, they finally left, shutting the door behind them.

"You're acting different than before," I said. "Why is that?"

A small smirk tugged at her lips. "I was testing you, before. Honestly, I don't think chess is lame. I actually think it's pretty cool. I've just never seen anyone play as well as you. And, by the way, when you asked how smart I was, I have an IQ of 140, so I'm not as dumb as I seemed."

"Interesting," I said. "Why did you act the way you did before, then? Like a bitch."

Her smirk turned into a grin. "I was trying to get a feel for you. I could tell just by looking at you that you were pissed that we were here. And that you hate George's guts." She turned to me. "I hate the man too. He's a bit creepy, in my opinion."

I hesitated, but decided to tell her about the notebook. "The notebook you were reading before, it contains everything I know from memories to drawings. One day I found George looking through it. A few days later, today, it was back where it should be, as if nothing even happened. I don't know why he did it, or how he managed to put it back without me waking up, but he did. I'm a very light sleeper, so it's strange…"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I've never heard of him doing something that weird. I usually just get cautious around him. Have you ever told your mom? She might talk to him-"

"My mom doesn't care about me. She stopped caring the day after my father's funeral. And two years later, she comes home with George announcing that they will get married and that I'll have a new father. My first thought was that I hadn't wanted a new father; I was miserable from then on. But, I've been thinking, how long has she been seeing him? I've sacrificed my childhood for her. I paid her taxes, Mirabelle. I cooked her food. And all of a sudden, she comes home with a stranger!"

"I thought that when you were glaring at us when we first came, that you were just acting like a bitch. I act like one because I need to fit in at school. Even in front of my brothers. But…you hate us because we're related to the man you hate the most. I'm sorry, Kairi. I can't help that I'm related to George, and I don't have all the answers to your questions, but I can try to make it up to you. You don't have to trust me, but I can try to earn it. Tomorrow, if you're feeling better, we can follow George around and try to find out more about him."

Stunned slightly, I nodded. "Thanks…"

She smiled. "If it gets me away from my perverted brothers, I'm all for it. Did you know that Michael kept staring at your legs? I tried telling him to stop, but he just kept looking!" She laughed.

"I know. What's up with him? He's the pervert, and Kevin…he doesn't talk much, does he?" I said.

Mirabelle continued, "I'm the stylishly smart one, Michael's the perverted one, and Kevin's the plain follower one."

"They sound like they have such unattractive personalities," I pointed out.

"God, they _do_. And I'm constantly being pestered by my mom to where this type of clothes." She pointed at her clutch bag and clothes. "I'm living cotton fucking candy," she said.

She frowns. "I pushed you a bit far when we went to the park. I shouldn't have talked like that about your friends. Michael and Kevin don't think you have any, and you were just trying to hide it, but I told them to shut up-"

"I have one friend."

"What?"

"My mom-she probably thinks I'm so popular at school because I'm rarely home and I act like a teenage bitch, but that's because she can't take a damn hint. I have one friend. His name is Ace and he's in his second year of high school. I met him last year."

"The girls at the boarding school are basically all the same, and are strictly against foreigners like me. But, I watched them and eventually understood that I wasn't going to get anywhere if I didn't act like them. Now, all of them are my friends, though not close ones. You're strong, Kairi. I know now that you're not really a bitch, but actually really tough. I don't think I could ever live the way you do. It's all psychological torture-everything that's happened to you."

"I wouldn't call it psychological torture, actually. Everything that happened and still happens, I choose to go through. I skip breakfast, because I don't want to see their faces in the morning. And, I starve until lunch. I eat whatever shit they serve, then go play chess or poker, or whatever with Ace. He and Einstein try to get me to eat at their place because they know that I avoid my parents, especially George."

She interrupted me. "What a minute, did you just say Einstein? As in Albert Einstein?"

"No, as in John Westerfield, the game Einstein of Greenwich Village."

She seemed at a temporary loss of words, so I explained, "He is the oldest…gamer, so to speak, in the Village. Although I've never seen him play, he's supposedly a legendary chess player, and a master at many other games. Hence, the Game Einstein. Einstein for short."

She nodded.

"He's also very wise," I said.

"You seem to know a lot of important people around here…hey, what's Ace like?"

I shrugged. "He taught me how to play and win many different games in the span of one year. He has a German shepherd dog named Terminator."

I pause to think. "He knows how to fight. I've seen him. He taught me how to fight a bit, as well as how to flip. He loves animals, like me. And he's misunderstood. At school, he's often called a druggie because no one really knows much about him, or tries to, and he doesn't make too much of an effort to fit in either. He gets good grades, but he sometimes comes in late because he tends to wake up early to meet some men before they go to work to play chess. He's a really nice guy, and he's also really smart."

We talked for a while longer, but soon fell asleep.

The next morning, we were woken up by a loud _crash_ in the kitchen.

Jerking awake, we both ran through the hallway and the living room to see Michael and Kevin staring at the shattered remains of a large plate.

"_Fucking _hell. Why?" I said.

I pointed at Kevin. "Go get a broom and shovel. It's in the closet over there," I said, then pointed behind him. As he scurried away, I pointed to Michael.

"You. Stop looking at my legs, or I'll smash a plate over _your_ head."

He nodded, but I could see that he was still looking.

I looked down. They were still a bit red from last night, but other than that, they were fine.

I looked back up at him, and walked close to him so that our faces almost touched.

I grabbed the back of his head and stared him straight in the eyes.

"Stop. Staring. At. My fucking legs. I wasn't _kidding_ when I said I would smash a plate over your head. 'Kay? Got it?"

I smiled sinisterly and dug my nails into his scalp. "Listen here, Michael. I don't exactly _like_ when people ignore me. So, you'll stop, won't you? Good."

I pushed him backward and into the counter and dropped my hand. Mirabelle was trying not to grin and laugh, and so was I. But, I had practice when it came to threats, and I was more than skilled at keeping a straight face.

After Michael had retreated to his room, not meeting my eyes-or my legs- and Kevin had finished cleaning up the plate, Mirabelle and I went back to our room to get ready to stalk George.

She looked at my closet.

"You don't have a lot of clothes, do you? I might have some things you'll like, though. It might be a tad big for you, but it should be fine."

I shrugged. "Maybe," I said as I searched my closet.

Anyway, she chose to wear a high-waist cobalt blue skater skirt with a tucked in tight black shirt and black leggings. And I wore high-waist shorts with black leggings underneath and a tight black turtleneck tank top.

She had brought _a lot_ of clothes with her, including coats, and she chose a black double breasted wool coat with a hood. I chose a black double-breasted overcoat.

I stared at her. "You don't wear makeup?" I said.

"No, but I do have some. Anyway, you should put your hair up. It's always in your face and will probably be a dead giveaway if he looks our way."

I nodded. She had a point. Standing in front of the mirror, she took my hair and quickly made it into a tight, neat bun.

"You have such long hair," she said. "How do you live with it?"

I shrugged. "I'm okay with it."

We left through the fire escape. She was nervous because she'd never stepped outside of a window to leave her house. I'd told her it wasn't worth getting nervous for, it's not like she was going to get stuck. The windows were designed for adults as well as kids to escape from in an emergency.

"Where does George work?" Mirabelle asked once we were down.

"Don't know, but I know someone we can ask."

We walked to Einstein's place and I knocked on the door. After a moment, I opened the door, causing the bell to jingle.

"You don't have to knock before you come in, Miss Kairi. You're always welcome here."

Einstein peeked out from behind a stack of games.

"And who is the lovely lady with you, Miss Kairi?"

Mirabelle introduced herself. "I'm Mirabelle. Her step-cousin."

Einstein's eyebrows shot up, but he grinned and introduced himself. "John Woodrow. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mirabelle." He shook her hand, and she shook it back with no sign of the bitchy hesitation she showed me the day before.

It was actually quite impressive.

The door opened behind us, and Ace with an uber-happy Terminator stepped into the store.

Raising an eyebrow, he glanced between me, Einstein, and Mirabelle.

She stared right back at him.

Terminator came barreling at me, but I stood my ground against him.

No one said anything until Ace broke the silence.

"Who's she?" He said to me.

"My step-cousin, Mirabelle."

She extended her hand with a smile. "Pleasure to meet you."

He shook her hand with his free one and said, "You never said your cousins were English."

"They're not. They go to a boarding school _in_ England, but live in the Hamptons. And, why don't you ask her? She's right there."

After conversing for a short while longer, he left with Terminator, saying that he was going to teach him a new trick.

"Einstein, if you're not busy, could you please help us with something?" I asked

"Well, sure. Why not?"

"Do you know where George Robinson works? I've never been there"

He thought for a moment. "He's an accountant, correct?"

"Yes sir."

He then gave us directions to his office.

We thanked him and I promised to pay him back, but he refused to accept money. I was still going to pay him back.

We left the store and Mirabelle said, "He's a very kind man."

I agreed. "Yeah, he's a really good man. He's a better person than _I'll_ ever be, though."

"I wonder what Kevin and Michael are doing right now," Mirabelle thought out loud.

"I honestly hope they haven't fucked up the house _too_ bad." It was her turn to agree.

When we neared the office building, we stopped.

"Going inside would be too risky. How about this: one of us will run back home and look for some binoculars or something while the other gets closer to his office and watches him using the camera on one of our phones."

Mirabelle nodded. "I'll stay here because you can navigate the Village better than I can. Plus, I'm good with my camera."

"Okay. See you in fifteen to twenty minutes."

I tore down the street, and thought about Mirabelle. _I just left her out in the snow…I kind of hope she doesn't freeze. Wait, England's colder…_

Racing past people was easy enough for me: I was good on my feet, and I had great balance. So I did. I ran through groups of people, not bothering to apologize, lest it slowed me down. I really, really didn't want to miss anything and I also felt bad about leaving her alone. Since the snow inevitably slowed me down, I had some time to think about Mirabelle. How should I know whether or not to trust her? I've already told her a lot last night, but was that the right thing to do?

Maybe it's the hormones talking, you know? Maybe talking to a girl my age was healthy once in a while.

I reached the fire escape, climbed up the ladder, and ran as quickly as I could without slipping on any snow or ice. Slipping through my window, and onto my bed, I took my shoes off and let them dry.

I opened the door to my room and stepped out into the hallway. It was too quiet.

"Kevin? Michael?"

I knocked on their door. Nothing. Pressing my ear against the door, I listened for any sound that might've given them away. Moving my head away from the door, I said, "I'm coming in."

I twisted the doorknob. It was locked.

Something strange was going on here. Slowly and quietly I walked to the end of the hallway. Pressing my back against the wall, I used the camera on my phone to see if Kevin or Michael were there, waiting to jump out at me.

Nothing. I shifted my phone to look at the kitchen and furrowed my brows. I couldn't see anything, but they could be hiding behind the counter.

I checked behind the counter. No one was there.

I grabbed a cleaver from the knife drawer and walked back to their room and knocked on their door again.

After waiting a few seconds, I stepped backward.

"I'm just going to pretend this is George."

I lift up my foot, and slam it on the door, causing the door to fall off its hinges.

Kevin and Michael stared at me, slack jawed.


	7. Chapter 7

My foot was still in the air, and the knife was still in my hand. Kevin and Michael were too shocked to move, and they were gaping like fish._ Idiotic_ fish, that is.

I clenched my jaw, then spoke, "Why…in hell…did you ignore me?"

They were still too shocked to answer, and I wasn't sure if they heard me. So, I walked out of the room and searched for binoculars.

Once I found a pair, I slipped on my snow boots, climbed out the window, down the fire escape stairs and ladder, and ran as fast as I could back to Mirabelle.

When I finally got there, she said, "Where the hell were you? I was worried you got ran over by a car, the way you tore down the road like that! You didn't even look to see if there were any cars! _And_ you're twenty minutes late!"

Once I caught my breath, I told her of how Kevin and Michael had caused trouble, and how I searched the house for them, to finally break down the locked door to their room and see them sitting there gaping like imbeciles.

She put a hand to her mouth. "You _broke_ down a door?"

"I kicked it down."

"My God…you're going to get in so much trouble."

"No, I'm not. I'll tell them what happened, and if they decide to punish me anyway, well, I won't listen. I never do. Anyway, how's George doing?"

"He only left his office once, and that was to go to the john. Other than that, nothing's happened. I can't see his computer screen from where we are, and to do that we'd have to go inside the building."

I thought for a moment. "Can I see your camera?"

She stood up, and handed it over. Some people nearby glanced at us; we were hiding behind a post office drop box.

I switched places with Mirabelle, who helped me direct the camera to George. I zoomed in. George was sitting at his seat, typing on his computer. I zoomed in closer, blurring George, and focused on what was behind him.

A window.

Grinning, I looked up at Mirabelle.

"Good brain. But, if he turns around, he'll see you. You can't just point your camera at him in plain sight, either. Someone will notice and call the cops," she said.

"I wasn't planning on doing that. Look," I pointed at the building. "There's most likely a fire escape near the window. I moved my finger up the building and to the right. "You see that? I'm going to bet money that there's a fire escape there. Behind that is just trees from the park. There's a lower chance of being caught from there. I'll go hang from the ladder and try to take pictures of his screen, and maybe while I'm at it, the things on his desk too."

"Not bad," Mirabelle said.

"You'll use the binoculars while I use my phone," I said, pointing to the tiny bulge in one of the coat's pockets. "We'll meet back here in twenty. If anything happens, run to the park. I'll do the same if I see you running, or if you're not here when I come back."

She nodded, and ducking my head, I made my way to the other side of the building. I climbed up the ladder of the fire escape just until I was standing over the window. Leaning down, I look into his office through my camera.

I zoomed in, trying to get a better view through the window. Carefully, carefully, I inched closer to the window. One leg dangled off the ladder, while the other stood firmly planted onto it. _There._

Fifteen minutes later, I met Mirabelle at the drop box. I showed her the pictures I had taken. "He was sending an email, so I took a picture of it. Someone walked up to him, and he quickly switched back to another screen," I said.

She nodded. "Nothing, again. Sorry."

I shrugged. "It's fine. Let's read the email."

We leaned against the drop box and I put my phone between us so she could see too. Zooming in, we read the email.

When we finished reading it, Mirabelle began to speak, "Kairi…I-"

"It's fine. Let's go visit my mom."

Walking ahead of her, I said, "It's a bit far, so let's get going."

She paused. "If we go, she'll know that we spied on George. She probably won't be happy about that. And when she comes home, she'll find the door."

I turned to look at her. "I know, but I kicked the door down barefoot, and I think I hurt it."

"And you _ran_ here? Why didn't you_ say_ something?"

"It's not too bad. We don't have to go to the hospital."

"You said you wanted to."

"I did, but I also said we didn't have to. It'd be free if we go there since Mom works there. But we can go home, check on Kevin and Michael and my foot, and if I need to go to the hospital, I'll call my mom."

Mirabelle sighed. "Let's go."

We walked all the way back home and entered through the front door instead of the fire escaped. Kevin and Michael both avoided my eyes and continued to watch TV, and Mirabelle led me to the armchair. Carefully, I took off my shoes and socks and compared my feet.

"What's going on?" Kevin asked when Mirabelle got down on her knees and examined my feet. Without turning to look at him, Mirabelle responded, "When she kicked down that door, she might've hurt her foot. I'm checking to see if she needs to go to the hospital where Aunt Valerie works."

She lifted my foot up and I winced. "Sorry."

"It's fine…" I muttered. After a moment, Mirabelle said, "It's swollen, but it's not too bad. If you hadn't run on it, then it would probably have not swelled up."

"I doubt that," I said. "Should I call my mom?"

"I think so. Better safe than sorry."

Taking out my phone, I punched in my mother's number and waited. After three rings, she finally picked up.

"Kairi? Is it important? I have a patient soon."

"I hurt my foot."

"What? How bad is it? Do you need medical attention?"

I looked at Mirabelle who was listening intently. She nodded.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay. Can you wait twenty minutes? I'm going to come get you."

We hung up, and I turned to Mirabelle again. "She's coming to pick me up. Do you want to come?"

"Yep."

I shut my eyes. Might as well try to sleep.

All of a sudden, someone poked me in the shoulder. Opening my eyes, I saw Mirabelle standing next to me.

"She's waiting in the car outside."

I slipped on my shoes, not bothering to put my socks back on, and walked to the car.

After I had kicked down the door to find Kevin and Michael gaping, I had started feeling a small, sharp pain in my foot, but I hadn't actually registered it until I told Mirabelle what had happened.

Once we were seated in the car, my mom started to talk. "What happened to your foot?"

I hesitated and looked out the window. "I kicked down Kevin and Michael's door…"

"You…_what_?"

"I kicked down their door because I couldn't find them and when I knocked on their door they wouldn't open it."

"So you kicked the door open?"

"I kicked it clean off."

"Good lord…"

I was aware that this was the first time in a long time that I had talked to her without arguing with her.

"Where was the swelling?"

Mirabelle answered this time. "Calf and foot. Right leg."

My mother sighed and shook her head. "What have you been doing with yourself? Frostbite and now this…"

I ignored her. Soon enough, we reached the hospital and we walked-I had begun to limp because it hurt too much to walk- inside only to be temporarily separated. I was sent to wait in a doctor's office while my mom went off to meet her patient (I assumed that's what she did), and Mirabelle waited in the waiting room on the same floor as me; the second.

Five minutes later, a doctor came in. She was Asian-Japanese- and she introduced herself as Dr. Mei Randolph. Upon seeing my confused face, she said that she had married an American, hence the surname Randolph.

She sat on a stool and asked me to take off my shoes. I complied, taking the left one off easily, but taking time with the right. She offered to help, but I refused. It was almost off. Impatiently, I just tugged the shoe off, which sent a jolt of pain up my leg. I cried out, and clutched my calf.

Carefully, Dr. Rudolph examined my feet. She said, "You're going to need an x-ray. Is that okay with you?"

I shrugged. "Fine. I don't mind."

"You're Kairi, right? You're mother works here as a nurse."

I nodded. "I'm going to have to ask her if it's okay to take an x-ray of your leg. I'll be right back."

She left the room and I waited ten minutes until she came back. "She said it was okay. Can you walk?"

I nodded, then carefully slid off the table and limped to the x-ray room. When we got there, I was told to sit on another table. Dr. Rudolph positioned my leg, gave me a lead apron, and then took the x-ray.

A few minutes later, she came back holding the x-ray images. Handing the images to me, she said, "You see this?" and pointed to my ankle bone. "You broke your ankle." She moved her finger to my forefoot. "And you have a stress fracture there."

I nodded. "What should I do about it?"

"When we get back to my office, a nurse will come in to give you a cast and crutches." Once again, I slid off the desk, and we went back to her office. I was sitting on the table again when she said, "I don't think you told me how you hurt your foot. I'm going to need this information."

"I kicked a locked door off its hinges, then went for a run."

She paused, staring at me. "I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Could you please repeat that?"

"I kicked a locked door off its hinges." I paused. "And then I went for a run."

She stared at me for a while longer, then decided to write it in her laptop.

"Why exactly did you do that?"

"I thought my step cousins were in danger, so I kicked open the door. They were pranking me."

She nodded. "Does your mother know?"

"Yes."

"Are you lying?"

"No."

Satisfied, she left the room and a few minutes later, a nurse came in. She held color swatches and told me to pick one. I chose a violet colored cast that was labeled "purple".

But it was violet. And I said so.

Confused, the nurse said, "What?"

"It's not purple. It's violet. There's a difference."

"Oh, okay."

She left shortly to get the materials for the cast, and when she came back, she slipped the first part of the cast onto my leg. Once she did that, she began wrapping plain white bandages around my foot and leg. This took about five minutes, especially since I could see she was being careful. Dipping the purple fiberglass into a bucket of warm water, she wrapped it around my foot and up my leg, stopping at my knee.

Once the cast hardened, the nurse handed me crutches, and helped me walk to the waiting room where Mirabelle was reading a Vogue magazine. She looked up when I stood in front of her, and said, "Now you know never to kick a door open barefoot."

"Or run on it…" I muttered.

Dr. Rudolph appeared next to the nurse. "Your mother told me to tell you that she'll be here in a few minutes to drive you back home." She handed me some papers. "Read this when you get home. It should help."

Nodding, I took the papers from her. A minute later, my mom came, thanked the doctor and nurse, and then took us back home.

"Purple, huh?" Mirabelle said when we entered my room.

"Why not?"

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah."

She frowned. "Why don't you ever say something? You shouldn't just pretend it never happened. If you feel something's wrong, say something. It might make a difference someday."

I sat down on my bed and picked up a Bleach volume I'd left by my bedside the two nights before. Remembered what Dr. Rudolph said about the papers, I picked them up and began to read it.

Nothing I didn't know already. I put the papers down, and saw Mirabelle staring at me frowning.

"What?"

"When we were in the car, your mom didn't ask if you were in pain. She didn't ask how you were feeling when you got the cast either. In fact, I haven't even seen you _hug _each other."

"I already told you, Mirabelle. Things changed after my father died, and even more so when George married my mom."

All of a sudden, my phone rang. I answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Kairi. It's Ace. Want to play poker at the park?"

I sighed. "Can't. Just got back from the hospital."

I then realized my mistake.

"WHAT? WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SOMETHING? I'M COMING TO YOU."

He hung up.

"We're having a guest in less than five minutes."

Mirabelle nodded and opened the fire escape window.


	8. Chapter 8

Ace sat on the edge of my bed, my foot propped up on his lap, and Mirabelle sat on her cot. Once he had climbed through the window and exchanged hellos, Mirabelle had turned away from us and began reading that strange book of hers I was surprised she hadn't finished yet.

Ace raised an eyebrow and whispered, "What's up with her?"

I sat up and leaned toward him. "Don't exactly know. She gets all strange when she reads that book."

"What book is she reading?"

"Once again, I do not know. She promised not to look through my stuff, and I'm not going to look through _her_ stuff."

All of a sudden, Mirabelle started shaking slightly, chuckling.

Ace and I glanced at each other.

"You okay there, Mirabelle?" I asked.

She didn't respond, and when I leaned forward, there was a shadow covering her face. Slowly, she turned her head, but only slightly. She had a creepy grin on her face.

"Call 911."

Ace sat there, looking strangely between the two of us.

"Ace. Take me and run if you're not going to call 911."

Mirabelle's chuckles turned into horror movie giggles.

"Mirabelle," I said in my calmest voice. Nudging Ace, I said, "Could you come here for a moment?"

Still grinning, she shook her head slowly.

Ace carefully set my injured foot onto my bed and slowly stood up, not taking his eyes away from Mirabelle.

Mirabelle frowned.

Ace pounced.

Grabbing the book, he turned away from the cot and ran to the other side of the room (which was around three strides away from the fire escape window for him) and clutched it to his chest.

Mirabelle grinned once again and a dangerous glint appeared in her eyes.

"Oh fuck-"

Mirabelle jumped onto Ace grabbing for the book, but he turned his shoulder. He stuffed the book in his jacket, and tried to get the fire escape window to open.

"You're opening it the wrong way, Ace," I pointed out.

Mirabelle jumped onto his back and Ace stumbled.

"Hazzah! Hazzah!" I cheered.

There was a knock on the door. Mirabelle, Ace, and I all shut up.

The door opened, and my mom and George stood in the doorway.

There was a long silence as they stared at us, and we stared back. Mirabelle was still on Ace's back, Ace was holding her book, and I sat on my bed. For once, I looked the most innocent.

"Kairi, who is that young man?"

Recovering quickly, I said, "Don't_ ever_ open my door unless I permit you to."

"Answer her, Kairi," George said before my mother could respond. "The woman _can _talk, you know." I smirked. "Or do you like them silent?"

George began to walk toward me, but I wasn't scared. Especially since my mom grabbed his arm and shook her head. "You," he pointed toward me. "Come with me _now_." He turned his head to look at Ace.

"Get out of my house."

"Fuck you, George," I said, not making a move to stand up. "He can stay in my room. My room doesn't belong to you, no matter how much you argue it does. And how many times do I have to say it?"

I stared him right in the eye. "I don't take orders from you. I never did, and I never will. And if for some reason, _any reason, _that I do…I'll make you regret you ever married my mother."

"I've had enough of the way you talk to me, young lady. I am your _father_. You will treat me with respect whether you like it or not."

"I hadn't ever shown respect to you, and I'm not going to start to now."

"That's _it_. You're grounded. You will not be allowed to leave this room aside from going to school for the next _month_."

"What makes you think I'll ever listen?"

"If you don't, I will _take_ you home," he threatens.

"If you even _try_ to take me home, I'll shove my crutches into your balls."

"Kairi!" my mother gasps.

Ignoring her, I stared lazily at George. He kept his eyes on mine, but I could tell by the tension in his jaw that he was losing.

"Done yet, sir?" I asked, feigning innocence, and tilting my head to the side. He turned on his heel, my mother following him. I could hear them talking, then a door slamming shut.

I cheered internally, but smirked cockily. Mirabelle had gotten off of Ace, and she was staring at me wide-eyed.

"You really hate George," Ace stated.

"No shit, Sherlock."

We talked a little longer, but it was only small talk. When there was silence between us, Ace decided to leave.

Once he shut the window, I said, "Well this day was productive, wasn't it, Mirabelle?"

She shrugged and yawned. "I'm going to sleep now."

"No, you're not," I said. "What the hell happened earlier? I mean, it was funny and entertaining, but it was just plain weird."

She smiled sheepishly. "That book just makes me act so strange…its part of a series, and…yeah."

"Can I see it?"

She handed over the book. "Interesting. Do you have the first with you?"

Nodding, she dug out a book from the depths of her suitcase and handed it to me. It was called _Plunging for Hell_ by Ira Fuse.

I snorted. "What the hell is this book about?"

She grinned. "Read the summary."

When I finished, I closed the book and handed it back to her with a similar grin on my face.

"What's the second one called?"

"The Sinterview which was published by Stony."

My grin widened.

**Did anyone get the joke "Plunging for Hell", Ira Fuse, and The Sinterview? Review if you did! Sorry this is a short chapter. I thought I'd make a funnier chapter, so here you go. If you want a list of the next five books, review. For the rest of you, favorite and follow!**

** Happy New Year!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi. Thanks so much for reviewing, following, and favoring my fanfictions. My sister came into my room when I still in bed and asked if anyone reviewed. (She was with me when I wrote the last part of the previous chapter and came up with The Sinterview). I have a question for everyone who reads this fanfic: what do you think is the worst thing that could ever happen to Kairi? I'm not looking for something like…Ace betrays her…or something with Mirabelle. Something that has to do with George, I mean. Please review with an answer. I'd really appreciate it. It'll help **_**so **_**much. (I have the beginning of an idea for it, but since the prequel is going to end soon, I'd like to see what you guys think would be a shocking climax). Keep in mind, I may or may **_**not**_** use it. I'm going to fix up Anomaly soon, then I'll make more chapters.**

I still hadn't gotten up, changed into pajamas, and went to sleep. I had listened carefully for Mirabelle's breathing to slow, and once it did, I carefully stood up, grabbed the crutches and a coat, and walked out the door, down the hallway, through the living room, and out the front door.

Carefully, I made my way down the steps. I stopped on the sidewalk to think. George hadn't come back yet, and I was curious to find out where he was. But, where would I go if I were him? I tried to see if there was any indicator of which direction he had went, but that was hard because it was night. I decided to go to the plaza. He would probably be at a diner or bar…are there diners around here?

I realized that my stomach was growling. I ignored it.

It took twenty five minutes to reach the plaza, and as I glanced through each store window, I got hungrier and soon became tired. Just as I looked through another window, contemplating returning home, I saw him.

What I saw made all the hunger and sleepiness and everything else I had to deal with worthwhile.

George was sitting in a bar, and across from him…was a woman.

I stared gaping, at them. I considered dancing, but I knew that would be inappropriate as well as painful. Damned cast.

Taking another look through the window, I saw that George's hair was slightly tousled. The woman had blonde hair, but I couldn't see her eyes. She was wearing a white tank top and since she was sitting, I couldn't see if she was wearing pants, shorts, or a skirt.

Smirking and cheering internally, I took out my phone and took three pictures of them. Before George could turn to look through the window, I left as fast as I could with crutches. Unfortunately, as I left, I saw George stand up, smile at the woman, and head towards the door.

_Holy, holy, holy shit._

I had to make sure I got home first. I wasn't sure if he still went into my room to mess through my belongings, so I'd be screwed if he went in and I wasn't in bed. He probably didn't know, especially because his niece slept in my room. Wishing that I could flash step as fast as Yoruichi from Bleach, I kept on walking.

I stopped. _Screw it. It's cold and I'm hungry and tired. Crutches are for suckers._ I knew just how stupid my next plan was. Oh well.

I took a step forward on my injured foot.

I sucked in a breath and clutched my foot. Nodding in painful understanding, I continued to walk back home using the crutches.

Since I couldn't use the fire escape, and I wasn't sure if George was nearby, or had just come home, I waited a block away for George to appear. My leg was throbbing, and my bare toes were cold, but not enough to get frostbite.

I came to. My eyes were already open, and I leaning against the tree, but I could see a sliver of sunlight in the sky.

Had I fallen asleep standing up with my eyes open?

Nah, it's not possible. I'd read about it on the internet.

Wow…I'm actually capable of spacing out like that. Maybe I should do that the next time George starts a conversation-

Wait.

I look at the photos on my phone. George _had_ been with another woman last night. Maybe that's what he and mom had been arguing about!

Grabbing my crutches, I made my way home. Once I was inside, I noticed that the house was quiet, and the light from the windows on the far side of the living room gave the house a tranquil air to it. Unfortunately, since it was already 3:30 A.M. and I left the house at 11:18 P.M., my eyelids were beginning to shut involuntarily, and I struggled to see.

I made it to my room, past Mirabelle, and collapsed onto my bed.

The next morning, I was woken up by a hand shaking me.

I opened my eyes sleepily and saw Mirabelle smirking.

"What?"

"When did you come back?"

Silence.

"Well?"

"3:30."

She smacked a hand on her face.

"What in _hell _took you so long? Don't say it was the crutches because we _both _know you would've gotten back hours before with or without them."

"I think I fell asleep standing up and with my eyes open."

She opened her mouth to say something, paused, and then shut it. Then opened it again.

"I don't think that's possible."

"It's what happened."

"Go back to sleep. I'll wake you up at 1:00."

I complied and closed my eyes, then said, "What time is it now?"

"11:00."

"Ugh, I know I should get up, but I don't want to."

"Then don't. It's normal to sleep late at your age."

"_Our_ age."

"Uh huh."

I fell asleep again, only to be woken up an hour later. Mirabelle said, "Did you know you went to sleep in your clothes? And without proper cushioning for your foot? Do you even want that thing to heal?"

"Too tired…" I muttered. She waved her hand. "Yeah, yeah. I'll buy you a coffee."

"I'd have to pay you back, then."

"Nope. Not me. You can pay other people back, but I'm rich enough to own this apartment as well as the coffee shop."

"Wow."

"Don't act surprised; you already knew that."

I smirked. "Yeah."

And then I remembered. Sitting up, I grabbed my phone and showed her the pictures of George and blondie.

Her eyes widened. "You think…he's cheating on your mother?"

I nodded but said, "I need more evidence though."

"Has he ever left the house like that before?"

I thought back. "Maybe, though he came back earlier. He'd never stayed out so late before. And he was at a bar. I never knew he drank."

"He probably started once he met you."

"True."

After that, I took a shower, brushed my teeth, and got dressed. (The fiberglass part of the cast was waterproof but the inside wasn't so I had to cover my leg with plastic).

Mirabelle was eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table and Kevin and Michael were conversing loudly. I ignored them and made myself toast.

Mirabelle said, "Can I see those pictures again?"

Setting my plate down beside her, I said, "Sure", and handed her my phone.

"What pictures?" Michael asked.

"Nothing," I said.

"Show me them," Michael demanded. Kevin nodded and stepped beside Michael.

I looked him in the eye and said, "No."

He said, "You can't hurt me because you're injured, but I can hurt you. So, give it."

I resisted the urge to smirk. I only needed an arm to hurt him.

Stepping forward, he repeated, "Give. It."

Looking up from my phone, Mirabelle said, "Go away, Michael."

But he only stepped forward. All of a sudden he fisted his hand and aimed a punch to my face. I took a step back and before I could stop myself, I dug a crutch into his solar plexus. He jerked forward and coughed.

You're crazy!" Kevin shouted then ran out the front door. Mirabelle stood up and I looked at her nervously.

"Eh, he deserved it. I'll go check on Kevin after we make sure Michael isn't dying…" Mirabelle said.

Michael ended up just fine, to my dismay.

Kevin had come back, ran past me, and into his room where Michael was resting. Mirabelle and I watched the news-there was going to another snow storm during the week and they predicted up to three feet of snow. Normally I'd be glad because I_ loved _blizzards, but since I was injured, the snow would be a hassle.

"Hey, Mirabelle?"

"Yeah?"

"I have school next week. What're you guys going to do while I'm at school and George and mom are at work?"

"Stay here…shovel snow…"

"Lucky…"

A few minutes later, we turned off the TV and went to the park.

I couldn't see anyone I knew, so I decided to watch a man playing against a kid. Mirabelle stood by my side watching the game just as intently as I was until a man said.

"What have you done to your leg, Miss?"

I turned around to see Alexander Woodrow.

"Sir," I greeted him. "I kicked a door off its hinges barefoot because my step cousins decided to prank me and I thought they were in trouble. And then I ran on it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Smart and protective, are you?"

"They didn't deserve it. One of them tried to punch me today, but I hit him in the solar plexus with my crutch."

Both eyebrows shoot up. "Is he okay?"

I nodded. "In pain, but just fine."

"You know, punches to the solar plexus can be fatal. Try not to do that again."

"Yes sir."

"Anyway, do you care for a rematch?"

I thought about it. "If it's okay with you, my step cousin here has an interest in chess. She knows how to play, but she hasn't played before."

"It'll be my pleasure."

He smiled politely to Mirabelle and they sat down at an empty chess table.

After they had finished, Mirabelle and I went to a French macaron store. I found out that Mirabelle loved macarons, not only for the taste, but for the color. That was something we had in common, although I hadn't admitted that I loved the color too.

We stood over the fridge display. "So many…"

I nodded. "I know what I want."

"Me too," she said.

I bought lavender, rose, and vanilla, all with a buttercream filling. Mirabelle bought strawberry, vanilla, and Earl Grey.

We sat at one of the tables near the window. Mirabelle looked up. "It's snowing again," she said.

"If I knew this winter was going to be so good, I would've let Kevin and Michael die."

"They weren't in trouble to begin with."

"They were in trouble the second they decided to fuck with me."

It was sunset and we were on our way back home when she said, "You made breakfast this morning. Toast. You said you didn't eat breakfast."

"I don't, usually. But I love toast, and since its Saturday, I can make myself food."

"So you _do _know how to cook."

I nodded. "Yeah. But I try my best to avoid mom and George." I sighed. "I never asked her, and she never told me, but do you remember when I told you she came home with him one day? "

"Yeah."

"What…what was it like after…he died? I-I mean, you already told me some things like how you cooked and paid taxes-"

I interrupted her. "It's in my notebook. I'll show you when we get home."

I continued walking.

"Really? You don't have to if you don't want to…"

I shrugged. "You already read some of it."

When we got back, Kevin was making a sandwich and Michael…probably in his room.

Once we entered my room, and Mirabelle shut the door, I took out my notebook, a pocketknife, and a sewing kit.

Her eyebrows shot up. "If you're going to make me do some voodoo pact with you, I'm out."

I grinned, but didn't turn my head to look at her. Instead, I pushed the bedcover of the bed, took of the sheets, and held the pocket knife.

I cut open the mattress.

"What the _hell _are you doing?"

"New hiding spot for my notebook. You're now the only person aside from me who knows where my notebook is."

"Wow. What gave you that idea?"

"Prison documentary."

"Of course."

I stood up and sat on my bed. "I want to call Ace."

"Why?"

"It's only fair that if I tell you, I tell him too. He should be here too."

So I called him and he came through the fire escape.

"How's your leg?" He said.

"Fine for now," I responded. He nodded to Mirabelle and sat down next to me. "What's that?" He said, pointing to the notebook.

"A notebook."

"Did you call me here for story time?" He smirked.

I punched his arm. "No."

Lifting the notebook up, I said, "You both asked me how things were after my father died. This is your answer."

"Why're you showing us this now? And Mirabelle too? You met her two days ago, Kairi."

"No shit, Sherlock. That's why you're reading it first."

He began to say something, but I shoved the notebook into his hands and said, "Read."

So he did.

**Tomorrow is both my father's and Kairi's birthday! January 6! I'm aware that I wrote in previous chapters that she was twelve when she met Mirabelle (is twelve right now in the fanfic) and that doesn't make sense because her birthday is in January and Thanksgiving is in November. I'll fix that soon, but keep in mind that she is still 11. Anyway, review, favorite and follow. Anyone have any tips or ideas? I'd love to read them. I might not use them, but it might give me an idea on how to better proceed even though I have a plan. If you're wondering why I didn't write much about the pictures that Kairi took of George and the woman, just wait. Hope you enjoyed!**


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